


A Day at the Beach

by oniontheterrible (Loverhusband)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4077310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loverhusband/pseuds/oniontheterrible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diggle decides to take Oliver down to the boardwalk to cheer him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day at the Beach

**Author's Note:**

> I have not posted fanfic in many years, but was encouraged to put this one out there. If you enjoy it, let me know, as I may start posting more.

“Dig, what are we doing here?”

Oliver sighed, hands in his pockets, kicking at stray pebbles on the sidewalk. Three signs Diggle knew all too well. Oliver was in one of his typical, broody moods.   
There was no sure-fire cure that Diggle knew of, but it never stopped him from trying.

“A nice stroll along the beach! You love the beach!”

 

“I was trapped on an island for five years. An island with beach. God, Dig, how can you be so insensitive?”

That fucking island. Diggle wanted to murder that island – if such a thing was possible. Somehow, it always came back to those five years.

“Well this beach has a boardwalk. With shops. And people. And high calorie fast food. So suck it up and enjoy yourself.”

Oliver muttered something under his breath that sounded very close to “But I don’t wanna”.

Diggle grabbed onto his arm, “Oliver, wait, we’re here.”

Oliver quickly spun round and yanked his arm away.

“S-sorry. Reflexes. “

Diggle didn’t quite know the whole story behind why Oliver was so jumpy when touched, but he wanted nothing more than to slap him in the face, tell him to cut it out, and then embrace him in a big, firm bear hug. Somehow he knew that wouldn’t end well, though, so he tried giving him as much space as he could (though it was often too hard to resist).

“Wait…this is an arcade, ” Oliver said in disgust.

“Yea, and?”

“I’m not ten, Dig.”

“Yes. You really are. Now shut up, we’re going inside.”

“Fine,” Oliver said through gritted teeth.

Diggle grabbed his hand and without giving him time to resist, dragged him along. They ran right past all the old classics, the skee-ball, the shooters, and the prize desk. He was here for one specific reason. And that reason was DDR.

“No. No. Diggle, no,” Oliver said the moment he realized why they were here.

“But…”

“No.”

“But…”

“I said no.”

Diggle give it his best sad puppy look.

“Buuuut…”

Oliver tried turning around. Diggle knew he was going to win this one. Sure enough, Oliver slowly turned back around, took one more look at that face, and melted.

“Fine. One round. Then we are leaving and you are buying me an ice cream sandwich before we go home so I can shoot stuff. Deal?”

“Ice cream. Shoot stuff. Got it.”

“One round.

“Yup. Got it.”

“Dig, promise me.”

“Got it.”

“Dig…”

“Fine, I promise.”

Oliver sighed and stepped onto the DDR pad.

“So…how do you actually play this?”

“You’ve never played DDR before? Really?

“Island. Five years. Didn’t have a DDR machine out there.”

“So you’re telling me you never played any DDR in your pre-island playboy ‘phase’?”

“I think I watched Thea play it once? I dunno. I can’t remember.”

Diggle had an idea. A terrible, horrible idea. It was a rare opportunity that he had here with Oliver’s innocence in his hands. He could tell him the truth, or…

“Well, first off, you have to play shirtless.”

“What?” Oliver said with a grimace.

“It’s a Japanese dance game, Oliver. Of course you play shirtless.”

“I seriously don’t…”

Before Oliver could finish his sentence, Diggle already had his shirt off and tossed to floor. Oliver completely lost his train of thought as his eyes quickly drifted from Diggle’s eyes to his torso.

“I…I…” he stammered.

“Come on, Queen. Shirt off.”

“I don’t get how this helps.”

It helps me, Diggle thought. But finally Oliver decided to give in. With one slick, smooth motion, he flipped his t-shirt overhead and flung it to the floor beside him. It took all of Diggle’s willpower to not immediately start staring.

“Dig? Oliver asked

“Hmm?”

“The game?”

“Oh, right. Yea! Let’s play! Just step up onto your pad and we’ll pick a song. The goal of the game is to step on the arrows when they line up on the screen. Should be easy enough for someone as limber as yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Oliver said, glaring at Diggle.

“Fit. You’re a fit guy.”

Oliver raised one eyebrow so high, Diggle was surprised it still remained on his face.

“So! What song do you want, Oliver?”

Oliver watched as Diggle scrolled through a long list of songs. He had a confused look on his face.

“None of these names make any sense. I’ve never heard of these songs.”

“Just pick one, then.”

“Um…’Hot Limit’?”

“Good choice. Here we go!”

“Wait…I still don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“That can’t be a new feeling.”

“3…”

“Dig, stop the machine.”

“2…”

“Seriously, Dig, I don’t want to play this game.”

“1…”

“JOHN DIGGLE!”

“…GO!”

It was a fairly fast paced song, but Diggle immediately was killing it from the start. The rush of that building combo and the ‘PERFECT!’ after ‘PERFECT!’ put him into a familiar trance. He took a moment to look over at Oliver. It wasn’t pretty. Well…it was pretty, just not the DDR part. Oliver was gripping onto the support bar for his life as his feet tried – and failed – to tap along to the beat. He looked like a drowning chicken. Well, like, a sexy drowning chicken.

“Make…” Oliver gasped, “it…stop…”

Diggle wasn’t even paying attention to his own score now. His combo had long since dropped. He was more focused on watching Oliver than the game screen. He couldn’t help but find a sick sense of enjoyment out of watching the man he knew as The Arrow – the dark vigilante of Starling City – flail around half naked and completely failing at an arcade video game. And a half naked, sweaty Oliver – whether it was climbing a Salmon Ladder or playing DDR – was always a welcome sight.

“HEY! You two!” a voice came from behind them. “What the hell are you doing! No shirt, no shoes, no service! You’re sweating all over my electronics!”

“Dig…what…is…he talking…about?” Oliver panted, still trying to keep up with the song.

Diggle looked around and saw a short man in glasses and a button down shirt with the name tag “Peter; Assistant Manager” walking swiftly – and angrily – right at them.

“Uh, Oliver, I think we need to go now.”

“W-what? But…I think…I’m getting the hang…of this.”

“No. You’re really not. And I might have lied about the shirt thing.”

“GET OFF THE MACHINE!” Peter yelled.

Oliver finally stopped and looked behind them. At this point Peter was feet away and completely red in the face.

“Diggle…” Oliver groaned.

“Grab your shirt and let’s get out of here. I owe you that ice cream now, I think.”

The two of them leaped into action, jumping over the support bars and grabbing their shirts in the same motion. Before poor Peter could reach them, they were already long gone.

Once safely out of Assistant Manager reach, they stopped on the beach to catch their breath. Oliver started to laugh; slowly at first, until he fell backwards onto the sand and started to bellow.

“What’s so funny?”

“I can’t believe we just got chased out of a children’s arcade.”

“Yea, well, you do sweat a lot. I doubt that DDR machine will ever be the same.”

Diggle lay down next to Oliver, who was still beside himself laughing.

“Is it really that funny?” he asked, smirking over at Oliver.

“I haven’t been kicked out of an establishment since…before the island. Since the old days with Tommy.”

Oliver immediately stopped laughing.

“I know you still miss him.”

Oliver simply nodded. Diggle tried not to bring up Tommy much, it was a surefire way to put him straight into one of his moods, but this was one of the first times in a while that Oliver had talked about him.

 

“It’s not that. I do miss him, of course. It’s just…I haven’t laughed like that since he’s been gone. It feels nice.”

Diggle wanted so badly to reach over and grab his hand. Something – anything – just to show him that he wasn’t alone. Even sitting directly next to Oliver, sometimes it felt like there was still an ocean between them of things unspoken.

Just as Diggle was about to go for it, he felt Oliver’s hand grab his own. Lightly at first, then squeezing.

“Thank you, Dig.”

“No problem, Oliver.”

They lay there like that for several minutes, just staring up at the sky without a word.

“Do…you want to go get that ice cream, then?” Diggle suggested.

“I think…this is fine.”

“I agree.”

Diggle and Oliver looked over at each other simultaneously, hands still gripped tight, and smiled.

It was the best day John Diggle had had in a long, long time.


End file.
